


300 Arabian Nights

by light50



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempt at Humor, Canonish Characters, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Family Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, I will sink ships, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Loss, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Multi, My First Fanfic, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Short Chapters, Some Humor, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, faffing about, long work, permadeath only, references to obscure things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light50/pseuds/light50
Summary: None too pleased to be in Egypt, Dr. Angela Ziegler is faced with 10 months of hell. Things only get worse when she discovers she has a roommate, an overly friendly helicopter pilot. Faced with the hard realities of war, loss, and loneliness, Angela must find an anchor. The pilot could be a great friend, or something more.





	1. Day 1: Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> So disclaimer: this is my first fic, first real creative writing, and I don't even play the game. That being said, I'll probably gaff up the lore and characters quite a bit. Since no one wants to read 300 chapters of my writing, there will be time jumps, typically about 5-20 days where nothing narratively important happened. Each chapter will be about 1-3000 words and cover about 24 hours. I'll be updating three or four times a week. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> There's probably a lot of spelling mistakes, so please point those out to me. English is my first language, I just dont have a proofreader.
> 
> As for accents, most you'll have to imagine. At the risk of either making it unreadable and/or accidentally racist, I've avoided many of them. All words and sentences not in English were pulled from google translate, so actual speakers feel free to correct me.
> 
> Title subject to change.

# 300 Arabian Nights

##  _//DAY 1: Arrival//_

Angela hated flying. She hated everything about it. Her fear of heights aside, the drone of the engines, the smell of the cabin, and especially the turbulence. Every time the aircraft dropped or bucked her stomach churned violently.  
  
It didn’t help that she was on a military C-17. The large aircraft held almost 150 soldiers of 7 NATO nations. Angela had been assigned to the coalition forces in Egypt. Over the past year, a new rouge state had emerged from the region. Calling itself “Talon”. At first, they were praised as heroes, routing terror cells and liberating villages. Soon, however, their tone changed, they brought an iron fist down upon their newly acquired territory, demanding tribute, and massacring local forces. Their motives, capabilities, and members were all relegated to rumor. But what was known is that they were incredibly dangerous. Nearly 129,000 civilians and soldiers had already fallen to their attacks. In response, a US lead UN initiative called “Operation Overwatch” was rapidly put into effect. Nearly a million from 40 countries had descended on the region, and yet, Talon remained a threat.  
  
“You look a little green doctor!” The perpetually jovial tank commander Major Reinhardt called out.  
  
“I don’t like flying.” Angela replied weakly.  
  
“Here, in case you need it…” Captain Morison, an American Ranger handed her a plastic bag.  
  
Angela nodded in thanks and returned her head to between her knees.

It was only a few more minutes before the bag was full.

 

Finally, the transport landed at Preston-Sarraf Forward Operating Base, aka “The Altar”, just outside of Cairo, Egypt. Angela collected her two duffle bags, leaving the large steamer trunk behind; she’d have some soldier grab it later. Her knees were still a bit weak from the ride, but she managed to make her way down the ramp.  
  
The oppressive heat hit her like a wave. Unlike the summers in Switzerland, this was a dry heat. _Great, another thing to hate about this damn place_  
  
“Doctor!” A stout Egyptian officer called out. “Welcome to our country! Do you need help with your bags?”  
  
“Ah no, could you just show me where I’m staying” Angela didn’t want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to sleep for the next ten months.  
  
“Of course! It is that one right over there!” The officer answered enthusiastically.  
  
Without a further word, Angela made her way to the small Quonset hut. Outside the shade of the aircraft’s tail, the sun beat down on her. It was several hundred meters to the hut, but it felt like dozens kilometers.  
  
_Fuck this, fuck this place, fuck the people, fuck my life_ Angela was already regretting the decision ten minutes in. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. She was the only woman in the task force, she’d have the accommodations all to herself, no annoying roommates she would be forced to talk to.  
  
A small relief came when she saw air conditioners in the windows of the hut. She nearly tore the door open and was met with another wave of air, this time a cool and refreshing cascade.  
  
She tossed her bags on to the cot next to her and was about to throw herself on it as well when she noticed a figure in the hut.  
  
“Hey I don’t think you’re supposed to be he—“ She cut off as the figure turned around to reveal a tall woman, easily 10 centimeters above Angela, in a flight suit of about 25.  
  
She was an Egyptian with chin length rich black hair and a tattoo around one of her beautiful brown eyes. Her sturdy build and statuesque face held Angela’s gaze.  
  
“You must be Doctor Zeigler! I’m Lieutenant Fareeha Amari. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope the air conditioners are enough, I’m told its quite cold where you’re from. Do you have any other things you want me to bring in?” Just like the officer from earlier, she was overly pleasant, but her voice was oddly soothing with its smooth accent.  
  
“Are you staying here?” Angela held out hope that the solider wouldn’t be around any longer.  
  
“Yes, I was told that you would be informed I was staying, but my transfer was so last minute that they may not have had the time to tell you. Do you have luggage in the plane?”  
  
“Yeah, thanks” Angela said half-heartedly. _Is everyone here so goddamn annoying?_ She had little patience for the overly friendly and talkative types.  
  
Angela followed the Egyptian out of the hut, back into the oppressive desert heat.  
  
“So you are from Switzerland, doctor? I have heard it a beautiful country. What is snow like? My mother told me about the time it snowed when she was young, everyone stayed home and made snowmen and she used a cardboard box as a sled. I have never seen the snow, it seems so peaceful.”  
  
“It's cold and annoying” Angela returned.  
  
“I suppose it could be. Is this your first time in Egypt? It must be so very different from your home” The soldier continued her barrage of words.  
  
“Yes” _Can she not take a hint?_ ; Angela was already sick of her hutmate. “I don’t like the heat.” She added, hoping that Freah or whatever her name was would get the message.  
  
“That is fair, we are so used to it here. It’s the summer, so it does get better later in the year. If you need more air conditioners I’ll get them, I don’t mind the cold so much as you seem to mind the heat. If there is anything that you need I can get it. I’ve been told to accommodate you as best I can. It is not often we get such a prestigious doctor, or any doctor at all here. You will be doing so much good for the people. You must be so proud!”  
  
The Egyptian’s words stung. Angela wasn’t here out of the goodness of her heart. She was no solider, but the Swiss Army had made her a generous offer; pay for her education debts in exchange for 3 years of working with the military. She didn’t even have to enlist, plus 3 years was not a long time to pay off an MD, two PhDs, and three masters degrees. It was quite an accomplishment at 28, but the nearly three quarters of a million Swiss Fran price tag almost nullified it. 

Angela simply gave an ambiguous grunt. She did her best to prevent the Egyptian from striking up a conversation. A feat made difficult by the near kilometer to the parked cargo aircraft.  
  
At last, they returned to the C-17. Angela pointed to her large trunk. A family heirloom made of a sturdy Swiss wood an intricate lock.  
  
“Be careful its—“ She began to warn as the solider lifted the large trunk with ease.  
  
_That thing weighs like 60 kilograms!_  
  
“This is quite heavy doctor.” The Egyptian acknowledged. “What are brining here, books?” She continued with a laugh.  
  
“Yes” Angela really wanted the soldier to just shut up.  
  
“Ha! What books? I love books, my mother used to read to me when I was a girl. My favorite was Jules Vern. He is so imaginative, and the stories are so fun!”  
  
_Great_ Angela thought to herself. Truthfully she loved Vern was well, but she dared not give Freah (that was her name, right?) something to work with.  
  
“Textbooks” It wasn’t a total lie.  
  
“You seem very smart doctor. To keep learning is so important, yes? Perhaps you can teach me medicine and I can teach you something? After my mother forbid me from being a soldier I wanted to be a doctor. The school got destroyed though, and she died, and so a soldier I became.” Her last sentence carried a tint a regret.  
  
"Maybe." Angela replied coldly. The pilot seemed to at last get the message. 

As they arrived at the hut, their silence was interrupted by the loudspeakers.   
  
_**L-T Amari to hanger 9, L-T Amari to hanger 9 immediately**_ a voice ordered over the loud speakers, then repeated its call in what Angela assumed was whenever they spoke in Egypt.  
  
“I’ll put this inside for you doctor” Amari placed the trunk beside Angela’s bunk before leaving for the hanger.  
  
Back in the sanctuary of the cold, Angela began unpacking. She decided to stick to the furthest bunk from the solider, less conversation. She took her Vern books and shoved them deep into one of her now empty duffels before hiding it under her bed. It wasn’t long before she had set up.  
  
A bed set, a large array of medical books and supplies, plenty of clothes, a small multitool given to her by her favorite professor, and of course her laptop were all neatly arranged in and on the dresser she had been issued. She was here in business, no wasted weight.  
  
Curiosity soon overtook the doctor. She paced through the small hut, it was about fifteen meters long by six meters wide, with room for about 60 soldiers. A small passage connected to a bathroom with stalls for 5, and an open shower.  
  
She listened for a moment for the sound of footsteps. Hearing nothing, she approached her hutmate’s bunk. It was profoundly military, neat and spartan. The bed opposite hers supported a rifle, like the one the American’s had, “the boot gun” as Angela called it due to its resemblance to footwear. True to the Egyptian’s word, her dresser held half a dozen very worn books without covers. Flipping through one, it didn’t take her long to recognize Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. A few pictures of assorted people in uniform were tapped to the dresser. One, in particular, caught her eye. An Egyptian woman of about 20 with a tattoo around her eye. She held a large rifle and appeared to be in some village. The picture was aged, maybe from the 1980s. Angela suddenly made the connection, this was Freah’s mother.  
  
Suddenly the crunching of gravel filled her ears. Angela bolted back to her bunk, grabbed one of her textbooks, and began reading.  
  
“Doctor, they are serving supper if you are hungry” The soldier had returned.  
  
In truth, Angela was starving. She decided she’d rather put up with the Lieutenant than go hungry.  
  
The two made their way to the mess and entered the line in relative silence.  
  
“Jesse! You better give us some extra food!” The Egyptian and the American serving the food evidently knew each other.  
  
“Sure thing Fareeha, fer your lil’ friend too?” The American motioned to Angela.  
  
She simply nodded as Jesse plopped some meatballs and pasta onto her tray. It actually looked half appetizing.  
  
Fareeha (Angela finally remembered her name) seemed to understand the doctor didn’t want to talk and barely said a word throughout the meal. The food was good enough Angela decided as she shoved fork after fork into her mouth. Still, it was a far cry from the dining hall food of Angela’s prestigious university’s. After the silent meal, Angela returned to the hut for some much-needed sleep. It was only 9 pm, but 4 hours on a military cargo plane had nearly killed the young doctor.  
  
Angela went to bed now regretting her decision to come to Egypt.


	2. Day 2: Into the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Angela to leave the safety of The Altar. Outside of the wire, war is no longer a TV show or a news report. The young doctor is forced to shed many notions about life and her comrades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chapter up quick because I have the first 5 ready to go. As always, constructive criticism welcome.

##  _//DAY 2: Into the breach //_

Reveille blared at 6:15 in the morning. Angela shot up, slamming her forehead into the hard metal bunk above her.

“Scheiße!” She immediate slapped her hands to her mouth. To her surprise, Fareeha was nowhere to be seen.

Angela went about her morning brief ritual; shower, change, brush teeth, write down any ideas. It was all over by 7:00. Moments after the doctor had finished putting her long blonde hair into a ponytail, her hutmate came into the structure.

“Breakfast is open doctor. You should eat now; they’ll only have MREs for the patrol.” Her voice seemed to genuinely care. “There is also coffee if that is what you like.”

With that, Angela was convinced.

  

In the mess, the doctor helped herself to 4 cups of coffee, tons of sugar, no cream, the strongest roast they had. Fareeha seemed rather impressed such a small woman could handle that much caffeine. At the meal counter, Jesse had been replaced with a rather short man, bearded man Angela had not seen before, he wore a Swedish flag on his sleeve and a number of unit markings. He plopped a few spoonfuls of eggs and sausage onto her plate. Though she had no interest in her company, Angela sat with Fareeha anyways; it was less awkward than sitting with the others.

 “Pardon me, but you mind if I take a seat here?” Jesse asked of Fareeha.

 “Of course” She replied as he took a chair.

“If you don’t mind my askin’ doctor” he began, “you nervous?”

Angela was confused by the question.

“Why would I be nervous”

“Well, it's your first time going outside the wire. Even the best of us get the jitters.”

She was certainly nervous now.

“You won’t need worry though. With me an’ Fareeha, ain't nothing gonna go wrong.” He said with a convincing smile.

“Don’t get cocky Jesse” Fareeha mocked.

 

* * *

 

At 9:30 on the dot, Captain Morison had everyone ready to go. Reinhardt’s tank, “HammerZeit”, led a procession of 3 MRAPs and 4 supply trucks outside of The Altar.

Angela was in the second MRAP with the driver, PFC. Sharif, Cpt. Morison on the radio, Corporal (as Angela had learned) Jesse McCree on the remote turret, and Sargent Sansburg beside her.

“Pharah, this is Morison, do you copy, over?” The Captain called into the radio.

“ _Loud and clear Captain_.” Angela was surprised to hear Fareeha’s voice. Evidently, she was their air cover. “ _Road looks clear as far as I can see. Over_ ”

 

* * *

 

The hour and a half ride to their destination, a small village west of their base, was far from pleasant. Despite the vehicle’s heavy suspension, the poor dirt trails bounced the occupants around with Angela bracing herself by grabbing Jesse’s leg and Morrison's seat for the duration of the journey. It didn’t help that the vehicle’s AC left much to be desired.

When they finally arrived, Angela was not prepared for what she saw. Many of the homes in the village were collapsed, riddled with bullets, and even those left standing often bore the scars of war. Burnt out vehicles lined the barren streets, and craters dotted the landscape. The rotting remains of livestock lay where they fell.

“Alright boys, get that clinic set up, McCree, translate for me” Morson barked at his men.

Soon, a large tent had been erected and filled with stretchers and boxes of medicine. Angela and two medics, Lt. Anderson and Pvt. Rotchstein, did their best to administer aid to the hundreds of villagers that had materialized in front of their makeshift hospital.

Angela had seen injury and sickness before, but nothing like this. Children as young as three months who had lost legs to rockets, an elderly man with no eyes or nose after a grenade landed in his home, dozens of infected bullet wounds, every ailment the doctor had ever heard of, and the incoherent cries of mothers holding their dying children.

War had always been on TV; it was never real. And yet, here it was, starring Angela dead in the face. The looks in the eyes of her patients nearly put her to tears. Something as simple as stitches brought on a cascade of thanks and hugs, vaccines brought their recipients to tears and praise of the doctor, and the smallest prosthetic legs Angela had ever encountered gave a young boy named Kama the brightest grin she had ever seen.

Suddenly, the serenity was broken by Morison.

“Everyone, stand by, we may have an incursion.” His voice carried dread.

Angela was not ready for combat, not today. These poor people would stand no chance in the crossfire.

“Say again Pharah, what are these vehicles, over?” Morison demanded through the radio.

“ _Two pick-ups. One red, the other white I think. They’re old and their beds are full of something. They’re still 2 clicks away, it's hard to make out.”_ The pilot answered.

Jesse was busy talking to an old man who seemed to be of some importance in the village.

“Assumin I’m hearin this gentleman right, we don need to worry about them trucks. Says they’re with the village, commin’ back from the city to sell goats.” Jesse continued, “He says ask if we can make out if one of ‘em don’t have a windshield.”

“Alright” Morison returned to the radio, “Pharah, can you confirm one of the vehicles is missing a windshield, over?”

“ _Hold on, I’m moving in, over.”_ As she finished, the helicopter flew overhead, heading south towards the main road.

 _“No, they seem to have windshields, over.”_ Angela’s heart dropped. “ _Wait, the red one does not, repeat the red truck does not, over.”_

Jesse immediately began speaking with the villager again.

“He says that’s them. We’re clear.” A collective wave of relief washed the village.

“Pharah, hold off those are civis, over.” Morison ordered. “Sansburg, gather a couple guys who aren’t doing anything, best we check the trucks at the entrance to town, just to be sure.”

Sansburg nodded and mustered a few soldiers. Angela continued her efforts to heal the villagers in her tent.

 

After an exhausting five hours, they had done all they could. They villagers continued to thank Angela and the medics, one little boy even presented her with a battered stuffed tiger.

“He for you!” He had said proudly.

“Won’t you miss him?” Angela was hesitant.

“I have Zaraf! Namurr for you! Mommy walks now!” He said again, holding the toy out to her.

“Thank you.”

“Jesseeeeee!” The boy shouted, moving his attention to the soldier.

Angela looked at the toy she had been given. It felt like a thousand kilograms in her hands, it was probably one of the few things this boy had, and yet he had given it away to her just because she gave his mom some crutches. She looked up to see the boy excitedly receive a candy bar from Jesse as Morison mustered the men back into the vehicles. A dozen or so children leapt off of Reinhardt’s Leopard IIA7 as it’s massive engines roared to life.

Maybe Egypt wouldn’t be so bad after all. Angela had done work in hospitals, but it was not like this. It was always so impersonal, here’s your meds, here’s the bill. If the next ten months were anything like this, it might just all be worth it.

The ride back was just as unpleasant as the the one there, but she now had Namurr to hold onto.

 

* * *

 

Back at The Altar, Angela placed the stuffed tiger on her dresser. She admired it for a moment as Fareeha entered the hut.

“Jesse told you Akiiki likes you. I know for you such simple work must be silly, but they really do need everything we can give.” The pilot’s voice was weighed with sorrow

“I had no idea it was like this. I thought Egypt was doing well?”

“Yes, _was_. Talon has stretched us very thin. We could hold the cities, but for the villages, the people who needed us the most, we were powerless. It’s gotten better since help has arrived, but there are so many out there we can’t reach. When this is all over, it will take a miracle for them to forgive us.” Fareeha’s voice indicated something more personal, but Angela dared not press her. “The news stopped reporting on us long ago. People only care for so long, so they found a new sob story, and yet we are still here.

“I’m sorry” was all the doctor could manage.

“It is not your fault, you are here to help, and that is more than we could ask for. You know Jesse told me you skipped lunch doctor. You should eat, dinner is not until later.” Fareeha shifted from her dour tone.

Angela had not even realized she was hungry. She took the MRE out of her bag, Menu 2: shredded barbecue beef. As she began preparing the meal, Fareeha was again called to the hanger, leaving the doctor alone.

She ate her meal lost in thought, hardly acknowledging the mediocre taste. If the rest of her deployment went as well as today, maybe she would opt into staying in Egypt. It was better than spending the next three years bored out of her mind on some domestic training base. For the first time in her life Angela felt like she was helping people, that all the work and all the schooling had paid off, and that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

As she finished the meal, the doctor recognized her other desperate need, sleep. It was barely past 6:00 pm, but she was exhausted. Standing for hours, the bumpy rides, and the oppressive heat had done a number on Angela. She decided that her services could be gathered if she was needed. Throwing the remains of her meal away, and collecting Namurr, she laid her head down on the cot and drifted to sleep.


	3. Day 23: Old Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Egypt is looking up for the doctor. And when an old friend shows up out of the blue, life only gets better. However, all good things must come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty brutal, so be forewarned. Sorry if the formatting is inconsistent, I'm not real familiar with this site and I copy and paste from word. As always constructive criticism is welcomed.

##  _//DAY 23: Old Faces//_

## 

 

_//DAY 23: Old Faces//_

             Over the past three weeks, Angela had come to rather enjoy Egypt. After eight “mercy missions”, life was looking up. She was helping people, people who needed it, and Angela was the only one in the world that was there for them. Her dresser was now covered in gifts from her patients, stuffed toys from children, ripped books from the adults, ornate clothes, even a broken watch, whatever they could afford to give to their savior. She had even warmed up to Fareeha a bit, moving her bunk slightly closer to the helicopter pilot’s.

Fareeha had proudly shown off her bird to the doctor. An AH-64 Apache, in Angela’s opinion, the ugliest aircraft she had ever seen. The Egyptian had sat her in the cockpit and explained the controls, how she was the only one in the Egyptian Air Force to fly one solo, how tough the bird was, its powerful weapons, and the thrill of flight. In turn, Angela had taught Fareeha some more advanced first aid; tracheotomies, mending severed arteries, and amputation. Their current lesson was shrapnel removal.

Their table in the mess now permanently featured Jesse. The American painted himself a cowboy, carrying a massive .44 Magnum revolver and proudly wearing a cowboy hat whenever his superiors allowed. He was far from a dullard, however, with a knack for language he was their best translator.

As the trio began their meal of French toast, a familiar voice came to Angela’s ears.

“Angela is that you luv?” The doctor turned around and sure enough, there was Lena Oxton, now sporting an RAF flight suit.

“Lena? What are you doing here?” Angela stood and embraced the Brit. The two were roommates while Angela studied in England. Despite Lena’s peppy personality and seemingly endless reserve of energy, they had become close friends.

“I was gonna ask you the same question! I joined up after college. The recruiter gave a real rousing speech, apparently me an flyin is like you and doctorin! I got my own jet and everything, oh its so great to see a familiar face luv!”

Angela released her friend, she hadn’t changed much. Still the slender, bubbly woman Angela knew, but her formerly wild brown hair was now cut to military regulations.

“Oh and look who else is here! It’s Winston!” Lena declared as her Black Lab ran up beside her, excitedly jumping on to Angela.

“They let you bring your pet?” She managed to get out between dog kisses.

“He’s not just my pet anymore, he’s a certified bomb sniffer he is! He’s such a smart boy, yes you are Winston.” The Brit enthusiastically rubbed the dogs back, who responded with a whine of approval.

“An’ who’s this lot? Are you Angela’s friends? I’m Lena, technically Captain Oxton, but Lena will do. Callsign is ‘Tracer’, you?” She added, noticing Fareeha’s flight suit.

“Fareeha Amari, Pharah.” She replied, “I fly a gunship, but you’re a fixed wing aren’t you? FGR4?”

“Yeah, got a brand new one commin in on Friday, decided I’d come a bit early and get acquainted with the people an' make meself useful best I can”

“Corporal Jesse McCree” The American began, “lucky for you, we’re doin som hearts and minds today if yer up for it”

“Always happy to help out! After I eat of course”

Lena and Angela caught up while they finished their meal. True to her word, Lena had joined the RAF the day she got her diploma, much to her family’s chagrin. Angela was surprised at the change in direction for the journalism major, but given her drive for doing good, it did add up. The doctor was still too proud to fully admit why she was there, only saying a unique opportunity had arisen. Lena had also taken Angela’s advice and asked that redheaded girl out. The two had been dating for a year now. Despite being perpetually single, Angela’s relationship advice was rarely off.

* * *

 

Lena rode in Angela’s MRAP as Sansburg was coincidentally sick. It was by far the longest trip they had taken, a full three hours outside the wire. Angela had become accustomed to the rough roads and the ever adventurous Lena hardly noticed.

During the trek, they learned that McCree’s cowboy attitude was not entirely childish playing. His family went way back in the American southwest, most of their history was legend. He regaled their vehicle with stories of gunfights, cattle ranching, and vigilante justice. How much of it was true was hard to say, but it was certainly entertaining.

* * *

 

“Anyways, that’s how my great-granddad got to be called ‘tenshooter McCree’ all cross Texas. True story.” Jesse finished as they pulled to a stop at their destination.

Business as usual commenced at the village. It was large, maybe 25,000 residents, and mostly untouched by the war. The coalition troops set up Angela’s tent, now affectionately called “St. Zeigler’s Hospital for the Weak, Weary, and Whiny”, as well as their small checkpoints and defenses. There weren’t as many hard cases as usual due to the village’s near pristine state. Most simply received vaccines, crutches, and minor stitches. Even these simple acts still brought the doctor and her medics more than their fair share of praise from the locals.

At noon they broke for a lunch, provided by the villagers. It was a stew of some kind and was positively delicious, far better than the mess hanger food, and infinity better than the dull MREs. Angela’s mind unexpectedly drifted to Fareeha. These were her people, and yet she was in the sky, unable to see the good they were doing. _What does she eat up there?_ Angela wondered. Next to her, Lena was growing fidgety as she often did.

“Hey, you lot, wanna hear a joke?’ Lena called to the group. Her jokes were terrible, but Angela had always humored her.

A few grunts of approval and one “hell yeah” was all she needed.

“Okay ‘ere it goes, made this one up meself!” She announced proudly. “So, an Irishman, a Scotsman, and an American all walk into a pub. The bartender says—“

Without warning, the young pilot’s head inverted. The contents of her skull sprayed across Angela’s face. Then came the crack of a rifle.

“SNIPER, GET THE FUCK DOW— GJHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!“ Anderson cried before a bullet ripped his left leg from his body.

People bolted in every direction, taking refuge behind whatever they could find.

“BUILDING A-7, A-7!” a soldier called out.

“PHARAH, POUR FIRE ON A-7, WE ARE TAKING SNIPER FIRE, YOU ARE CLEAR TO ENGAGE!” Morison shouted into the radio.

Above them, the gunship swung into position. Anderson’s screams were punctuated by the rhythmic bursts of Pharah’s cannon. She loosed two rockets into the structure, blasting its front face away.

A deafening silence swept over the village. Anderson now only whimpered as consciousness left him behind.

“Team 4, check the building” Morison motioned to some soldiers who quickly advanced on the now ruined building.

Angela looked down at Lena, praying to see signs of life. Instead, she could see her brain, or part of it at least. The sniper’s bullet had removed a full third of the young woman’s skull. Her face, frozen in the midst of her joke. She never knew what hit her. The young woman’s blood mixing with the soil. The doctor could not hold herself, she threw up onto the village beside her, and then into her own lap.

“Mother fucker got away!” an Australian soldier called from where the sniper had been. “Blood trail leads to a basement hatch, and I ain’t opening that shit!”

Morison nodded contemplatively. Angela looked up at him, then down to Anderson. Rotchstein, her other medic was desperately trying to stabilize him. Angela tried to stand but collapsed, so instead, she crawled towards the downed soldier.

“Get Nasser over here, we’ll send Bastion into the basement, I’m not losing anyone else today!” Morison called as the Egyptian soldier prepared their unmanned ground vehicle.

As Angela reached Anderson, the extent of the damage was clear. A massive pool of blood had formed, all the major arteries had been severed, his whole leg had been severed.

“Doctor, can you please cover her” Rotchstein asked weakly, nodding towards Lena. Begrudgingly, Angela realized there was nothing she could do for either casualty except give her friend some dignity in death.

She crawled back over to Lena, where the elderly villager she had vomited on produced an ornate scarf.

“For your friend” she whispered, holding back tears.

Hand shaking, Angela took the cloth and covered what remained of Lena’s face, succumbing to tears as she did so.

This was wrong. It was all wrong. Lena wasn’t supposed to die. No one was supposed to die. _Heroes never die_ she whispered, at least, that was what her mother had said. Unable to hold herself together, she started crying into Lena’s unmoving chest. She felt a hand on her back but didn’t look up. She didn’t care who it was, no one could see her like this.

 

Nasser navigated the _Silihafa_ UGV (nick-named Bastion) towards the entrance to the basement. The heavily armed, 500-pound vehicle made its way into the sublevels, just fitting through the trap door.

            “There is a cave sir” The operator said to Morison, who now stood above him.

            Weighing his options Morison decided that they’d seal the cave and leave. The sooner they got back to The Altar, the better.

* * *

 

            The three-hour drive back to the base was an eternity. Anderson had bled out just moments after they had loaded him into one of the trucks, which brought curses from Rotchstein. Angela simply stared into the seat in front of her, unsure of what emotion to feel. Hate? Anger? Greif? Guilt? Fear? Instead, she was left with emptiness.

* * *

 

            By the time Angela was back in her hut, it was past nightfall. She sat for a moment on her bunk, Lena’s head popping flashed in her mind over and over, the crack of her murderer’s rifle, the smell of grey matter.

            The doctor unleashed a primal yell. Anger, loss, hate, regret, pain, all rolled into one inhuman screech. Without thinking she sunk her teeth into her hand, blood pouring down her arm.

            “ANGELA!” Fareeha yelled as she nearly smashed through the door.

            Ashamed the doctor hid her hand, she didn’t want to talk to a soldier, not now, not ever again. Even so, she weakly stood to meet Fareeha. She moved her mouth to say something, but her throat did not allow sound to come out.

            Without warning, the Egyptian embraced her, pinning the doctor’s arms between their bodies, and lifting her a few centimeters off the ground.

            “Angela, I know you do not like me.” The truth burned Angela to hear, but the Egyptian continued, “I’m so sorry about your friend, and I need you to listen to me, please” she begged.

            Angela knew what the soldier would say, that Lena knew the risks, that she had been brave, that she needed to be strong. This soldier knew nothing about Lena, or Angela, or loss, she couldn’t possibly hope to understand how Angela felt!

            “I know that it hurts, I know that you can’t stop thinking about it, I know you want to blame yourself, I know.” She squeezed the doctor tighter.

            “I have lost too many comrades, too many friends, too many…” her voice trailed off. “but I’m sorry, but it does not get better. Lena is gone. Forever. We can’t change that, no one can. She was not ready to go, but death does not wait on us. Angela, promise me that you will honor your friend. Promise me that you remember it is not you who did this. Promise me.” Her voice pleaded as she seemed to try to constrict the doctor.

            “Gah, ye-yeah” the words hardly escaped Angela’s mouth. The Egyptian relaxed her embrace, setting the distraught doctor back on the ground.

            “You should clean up and rest doctor. But if you should need me, I am here, I am here for you doctor, know that.” The sincerity of her words stung Angela. Unable to speak again, the Swiss clumsily grabbed some bottles and entered the shower still fully clothed. The freezing water washed Lena’s thoughts from Angela’s face, washed the vomit from her chest, the dirt and blood from her knees. She slumped down, sitting at the base of the wall, head between her knees, before knocking it back into the wall.

            She emerged from her cleaning to find Fareeha gone, and in her place, a bottle of whiskey with a note:

 

_Angela,_

_For if you need it. Remember, I’m here for you. 1-555-0127-90_

_Angela, you are strong, do not forget that._

_Please take care of yourself,_

_-Fareeha_

 

            She was not one for drinking, but Angela took the bottle anyways, placing the bottle directly on her lips. The strong alcohol burned her mouth and throat, but she continued to tearfully guzzle the whiskey. Half the bottle later, Angela stripping away her soaking clothes and collapsing into her bunk, drifting to sleep as Lena’s laugh filled her mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, but Lena won't be the last. Welcome to my cruel and indifferent universe. If it's any consolation, after a few chapters of angst, there'll be some with a lighter tone. Hills and valleys if you will. As always, constructive criticism welcome.


	4. Day 24: Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Lena gone, Angela struggles to keep herself together. To her surprise, she finds comfort in the strong embrace of Fareeha

##  _//DAY 24: Goodbye//_

 

            Reveille woke Angela as it always did. As she sat up, yesterday returned to her like a punch to the gut. All at once, she felt sick again.

            To her surprise, Fareeha was in the hut for once, dawning a military dress uniform. It was then Angela became aware of her nakedness.

            “Relax doctor, I’m not going to look” The pilot said kindly.

            “How did you know that I was naked?” Implication tore through her head.

            “When I came back from debriefing, I checked on you. You were shivering, so I gave you a blanket. Are you alright doctor?”

            Angela noticed the hand woven wool that covered her.

            “Thank you.” Was all that came out.

            “We are having a service today for Lena and Kyle. You should put on your best.” It took a moment for Angela to realize that Kyle was Anderson’s first name. A new twang of guilt formed in her stomach. She’d never even bothered to ask.

            She dressed in her lab coat. Angela had no uniform, and not thought to bring anything formal. At breakfast, she, Fareeha, and Jesse ate without a sound. No one dared disturb the silent service.

            Lena and Anderson had been placed in the hanger that was to hold the Captain’s jet. Several dozen folding chairs sat in neat rows. In front of them, a handful of mats and kneelers, and finally, the coffins, adorned with Union Jacks, Anderson’s open, Lena’s closed.

            Fareeha and Angela stood in line to pay respects. Subconsciously, the doctor grabbed her companion's arm. At Anderson, Angela took to the kneeler, apologizing to the man she hardly knew, who she had failed, who she now so desperately wanted to trade places with.

            When she came to Lena, it took every ounce of strength the doctor had to keep her food down. She did not know if she believed in religion, but it couldn’t hurt at this point. She prayed to whoever was listening. Lena didn’t deserve this, Angela begged that her friend be some place beautiful and warm. Lena had always raved about her vacation to America and the beautiful beaches. She again took Fareeha’s hand as they found seats.

            The pair sat in silence for an hour, Angela resting her head on the pilot’s shoulder, who in turn rubbed the doctor’s hand. It was small comfort, but it was comfort none the less.

            The roar of engines signaled that Lena and Anderson’s flight home had arrived. Angela, Fareeha, and the rest of the soldiers moved to the airstrip, standing in clean rows, all in sharp uniforms, medals reflecting the sun, faces unflinching.

            Morison had offered for Angela to help carry Lena on to the plane, but she couldn’t do it. That would make it real.

            The British comrades of the fallen soldiers provided a rifle salute as their caskets passed their ranks. Each shot caused Angela to jolt.

            Finally, the cargo door of the aircraft closed with a hydraulic whine. It was done. They were gone now. They were gone.

           

            Angela used Fareeha for support as she half limped back to the hut. Inside, she could not hold herself any longer. Sorrow turned to regret, regret turned to guilt, guilt turned to unbridled rage.

            “HOW CAN YOU?!” She shouted at the Egyptian, “HOW CAN YOU NOT CARE?! DO THEY JUST MEAN SO LITTLE TO YOU?! IS THAT IT?! JUST ANOTHER FUCKING BODY, JUST ANOTHER FUKCING SOLDIER! YOU DON’T CARE, YOU CAN’T CARE”

            Angela shouted, punctuating her words with punches into the pilot, driving her fist into the woman’s gut, then chest, then face.

            Exhausted, Angela collapsed into the woman she had just assaulted, a weeping mess, mumbling incoherently. Fareeha held her close, resting her chin on the doctor’s head as tears soaked her uniform.

            “How are you so strong?” Angela begged, hoping for an answer to what she felt.

            “When I was a young girl, I had a friend, Bari.” She began. “We played ball in the streets, had sword fights, and our parent’s even let us play with the soldiers. We lived in the city where it was safe. The soldiers were the best, they always had treats for us, the taught us all the swear words, would play ball with us, tell us jokes.” Fareeha smiled weakly remembering them. “One day we were riding with the soldiers to the village next to our city. We had food for them after their harvest had been weak. One of the trucks broke down and so we had to stop. Bari and I got bored and bothered the soldiers to play ball. One of them accidentally kicked it too hard and it rolled into a field. Bari and I ran after it, and then…” Her voice weakened for a moment “He was gone. We don’t know what got him. A mine, a bomb, a rocket? It doesn’t matter. We never found all of him.” Angela winced at the though, remembering what one bullet had done.

            “When I came home, I cried for days. My mother came in before we buried him and said ‘Fareeha, it takes strength to cry for your friend, but he is not dead. If you remember the time you two had and smile, Bari is alive. If you tell one of his jokes and people laugh, Bari is alive. Do not let Bari die my Fareeha.’ I have lost many friends since then, but I have not cried. Lena doesn’t have to be gone, doctor. You can keep her alive.” She planted a kiss on the doctor’s head and loosed he grip.

            Angela was still bleary eyed, nose running, mouth quivering, and yet, it did seem better.

            “I want to sleep now; will you stay with me Fareeha?”  The doctor asked feebly.

            “If it makes you feel better alhabiba.” She said, again embracing the doctor in her strong arms as the two lay in the pilot’s bunk.

            With the Egyptian’s arms around her chest, and their bodies close, Angela felt safe from the world. The warmth of Fareeha’s body ran through her, and her words echoed in Angela’s head. Still, she did not know what to do.

            The soothing warmth of another body next to hers slowly lulled the doctor to sleep once more.

 

            Angela awoke and found Fareeha had been true to her word as always, her arms still held the doctor close and her warm breath indicated she was awake. Checking her watch, she saw it was half past three in the afternoon.

            “I’m sorry doctor, did I wake you?” The Egyptian asked

            “No, Liebchen, it's fine.” Her cheeks immediately flushed red with embarrassment, but the word’s meaning seemed on the foreigner.

            Angela began to sit up and Fareeha let her go. She felt better, calmer and clearer. Her stomach still felt full of lead, but it was a start.

            “How would you like a game of chess doctor?” The pilot seemed determined to keep Angela’s mind away from unpleasantness.

            “That sounds lovely Fareeha.” Angela. neglected to inform the soldier that she had been captain of every chess team she was on since she was 10.

            The pilot slid out of the bunk and pulled a rugged, hand carved chess board from her dresser and handed it to Angela as she gathered the pieces. Carefully, the doctor examined the wooded square. It was clearly hand made, but by someone with skill. The dark spaces had been carved out slightly and burnt for added visibility. On its underside, two columns of tallies. One labeled “Ana” that had hundreds, and the other “Fareeha” that only displayed a dozen or so.

            “Ana was your mother, wasn’t she?” Angela asked as Fareeha handed her a few pawns.

            “Yes. She taught me many things. Including Amaris only play to win.” She said with a chuckle.

            The pair set the board on a bunk in the middle row and sat beside it. Angela allowed Fareeha to make the first move of the hand carved pieces. A knight jumped over the row of pawns.

            “Did she make this?” Angela asked as she moved a pawn to make way for her bishop.

            “Yes. My mother was a very skilled, very patient woman. I supposed that’s why she was such a good shot.” The pilot made her next move.

            “What was she like?” Angela wondered if it was her place to even ask, especially now.

            “She was stern but kind. We…didn’t always see eye to eye. I wanted to be a solider ever since I knew what a soldier was. She forbid it. Of course, now I know she couldn’t stand to loose me, or worse, for me to be like her. She wanted something better for me. So I decided that doctor was the next best thing.” She sighed as she took one of Angela’s rooks.

            “But when the medical school got bombed, it was back to soldiering for me. We had a fight. A bad one. I called her terrible things. Threatened to run away with a made-up girlfriend. Become a soldier and never talk to her again.” Her usually strong voice wavered at the last words.

            “You don’t need to tell me Fareeha.” Angela assured, moving her queen into positon.

            “It is ok. I did run away. That’s where I got this,” she pointed to the tattoo around her eye, the flesh around it now swelling and blackening where Angela had punched it. “I came back though. We didn’t speak for a week. Then one day she said ‘Fareeha, you are my little girl. If I could, I would give you the world. I know I have not been the best mother, but remember Fareeha, I love you. I am not always right, but I always love you. If your heart is set on the Army, who am I to stop you. But Fareeha, please be careful. I don’t know what I could do without my baby girl.’ She died the next day.” Angela froze midmotion.

            “I’m-I’m sorry.” She stammered.

            “It was eight years ago. Just like Bari they never found her.” She paused a moment, bringing her hand to her mouth. “These things are never easy. I almost skipped her funeral. I cursed her for leaving me behind, alone.” Her voice shook as she finished. “Now I thank her every day though. She taught me everything I know. What are your parents like?” Fareeha shifted to a less somber tone as she captured the doctor’s queen.

            “I’m from a long line of watchmakers, so me becoming a doctor was a bit of surprise.” Angela chuckled as she forcefully planted a knight near the pilot’s king. “Check” she added. A wave of guilt washed over her. She'd only talked to them once since landing in Egypt, she owed them a call, especially now.

 

            “They must be so proud of you. To have accomplished so much?” Fareeha suggested, studying the board.

            Guilt filled Angela. She wanted to empathize with her opponent, but from the outside, her life had been damn near perfect.

            “They are.” She finally said weakly. “Still I’m lucky. Switzerland isn’t as safe as it was. Talon had filled so many orphanages there.” The doctor gulped as she finished. A few short years ago, Switzerland was untouched by the terror that had gripped the world, but Talon had targeted the small nation for some unknown reason. 30 attacks, over 500 dead, thousands more injured, Angela’s skills would’ve been in high demands had she graduated a year earlier. Just as quick as they had started, the attacks had ceased.

“Life is so cruel. It does not stop for us; it does not care for us. That is why we have each other. Other people, I mean” She stammered out the correction. “And now you are in check.” She said proudly, having taken the intruding knight with her own queen. “Actually make that checkmate.”

            Angela studied the board for a moment. The pilot was correct. How could she have missed it? A pawn had snuck its way across the board and been replaced by Fareeha’s lost rook, pinning her hapless king in a corner.

            “Damn.” Angela chuckled, “I haven’t lost a match in years. Again?”

            “Of course doctor.” Fareeha said smugly, resetting the board.

 

            By the time dinner came around, the two had played over dozen games, Angela had won 6, but Fareeha had 7 wins. The soldier was very good at distracting the doctor with small talk her striking eyes.

            “Come on doctor, it is time to eat.” Fareeha urged as Angela tried to set the board once more.

            “No!” She exclaimed, “I’ve figured you out, I’m going to will best of 15!” Fareeha had succeeded in pulling the doctor from more destructive thoughts.

            Fareeha put her hands under the doctor’s shoulders, lifting her easily from her seat.

            “Come on Angela, we still have many months to play our games.” Hearing her own name startled the doctor. Fareeha had only previously used it when comforting her. The Egyptian accent played nicely with the sound of it.

            She finally relented and stood with the Lieutenant.

           

            The mess hall was less somber than at breakfast. Jesse, Morison, and some of the other Americans had pooled their skills and grilled burgers for everyone. Not exactly traditional funeral food, but it did help improve the mood on base.

            “These are quite good!” Fareeha proclaimed, hoisting her burger, stuffed with every topping the base had to offer. “I like this American food.”

            Angela had gone just patty and lettuce, but nonetheless, the Americans had done well.

            “To absent friends.” Fareeha lifted her cup.

            Angela smiled and brought the plastic together with a crunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be much less grim, and there's going to be some light stuff up and coming. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, especially in this chapter as it went through several major rewrites.


	5. Day 28: Old Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Angela tries to regain normalcy, she returns to the mercy missions. She continues to find unlikely comfort in her hutmate, and The Altar gains two new guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter that only serves to set up a few future events.

The base commanders had respected Angela’s mourning period and allowed her to take a few days to normalize. It pleased her to learn the medical tent had been renamed to “Sts. Oxton and Anderson’s Hospital for the Weak, Weary, and Whiny”. Fareeha had had two small Union Jacks and with the names of the fallen painted on the side of her helicopter, below dozens of flags from as many nations. She told Angela it was a reminder of what she protected. Though he was the partner of their Australian EOD tech, Lt. Fawkes, Winston had also moved in with Fareeha and Angela. It was a decision that, though she’d never admit it, Fareeha had pushed. Since their nap, Angela had moved her bunk to the one above the pilot, though things had never got so intimate again, much to Angela’s disappointment. An East Asian man by the name of Tekhartha Zenyatta had taken Anderson’s place. Deeply religious, and according to the other soldiers, great with kids.

Today, their patrol, now taking up the name “The Village People” as proposed by McCree, was returning to the first village Angela had visited, and she had decided that it was high time she return to work. It didn’t take much for Morison to convince the doctor that a bulletproof vest and helmet were a good idea.

* * *

 

            Everything in the morning went smoothly, with the team even arriving a bit earlier than expected. Sts. Oxton and Anderson’s was set up quicker than ever, and to Angela’s shock, dozens of villagers with terrible wounds came to her.

            “Captain, what happened here? I thought it was secure?” She inquired of Morison.

            “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Their elder is MIA, and Jesse can’t seem to get a straight answer from anyone.”

            “ _Captain this is Pharah, over”_ The familiar voice came over the radio.

            “I read you Pharah, what is it, over?”

            “ _I’ve found something. It appears to be a knocked out T-55, but there’s a heat signature coming from it. Doesn’t appear to be hostile, maybe the engine is still running, it's in Q B-29 if you want to check it out, over.”_

            Morison acknowledged and sent Lt. Fawkes and Sgt. Lindholm over to investigate, accompanied by Winston.

            “Sir, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the story down.” Jesse had evidently finished his investigation.

            “Alright Corporal, give it to us.”

            “Seems Talon came into the place lookin’ fer medical supplies a few weeks back. The villagers weren’t havin any of that and things broke into a shootout. Evidently, the man in charge here got hit, he died then and there, but they managed to capture one of ‘em Talon boys.’

            Morison’s eyes lit up.

            “Where, do they still have him?”

            “Yessir, this boy here has been itchin to show off their catch, he’ll take you right—“

            “ _Captain, could you send the cowboy over here, we found Pharah’s heat signature”_ Lindholm reported to Morison.

            “Could you be a tad more specific Sargent, over?”

            “ _It’s a little girl, and we have no idea what she is saying_ ”

            “Alright fine” Morison seemed more annoyed than anything. “Jesse, see what they found. And Sansburg, give these folks a radio and tell em how to use it. If they get hit again, I want us providing support.” He ordered the German.

            Both men departed, leaving Angela with her patients.

            “The captain should clear his thoughts.” It was the first Angela had heard the new medic speak. “He is too focused on the future and the past. Tranquility only comes in the now.”

            Angela furrowed her brow the philosophical musing of her assistant.

           "Maybe he should be worried about the future." Angela returned. She was never much for these monk-types.

           "You too should focus on the future doctor. We do not know what we have until it has left us." Did he know what happened to Lena? Was this some form of an insult? What was he getting at? Angela's attention was diverted before she could respond to the strange statement.

            “Doctor, we sure could use some water for this lil one.” Jesse had entered the tent with a gaunt dark-skinned child of around 10 in tow.

            “They found her in a tank. Apparently, she’s been livin there for a couple a weeks. I think she’s from somewhere in Central Africa based on ‘er accent. I can’t make a lick a sense of what she’s saying.” The girl began a rapid-fire string of words, trying to communicate something urgent. Angela gave the girl a canteen of water, she momentarily stopped her barrage of words, she greedily guzzling it in seconds, before starting to speak again.

            “Ya know, she’s pretty clever. She put the engine of that ol’ T-55 back together, had an AC set up an’ everything.” Jesse remarked.

            “Hello, little one, what is your name?” Zenyatta kneeled down before her. “It is ok, we are your friends.” His kind voice drew her out from behind Jesse’s legs. She had stopped her cascade of indecipherable language.

            “Efi” No one was truly sure that was a name, or something else. Zenyatta seemed satisfied, however.

            “Here, have something to eat Efi.” The medic handed Efi an energy bar. Like the water, she scarfed it down.

            “Zenyatta, see what you can make of her.” Angela suggested, “I’ll handle the villagers.”

            “Thank you, doctor.” He responded, picking her up and taking her to a table for examination. Aside from hunger and thirst, she was in good health. 

* * *

 

Soon they had finished their work once again, reaping the usual shower of thanks. In Morison’s absence (apparently he was interrogating their new guest), Reinhardt had taken over and managed the cleanup, with slightly less efficiency than the American.

“Doctor, you we steal you for the ride back?” Morison had returned, his tone indicating no was not a valid answer.

Angela followed him the rearmost truck and found herself facing the Talon captive handcuffed to a stretcher. There were some hasty bandages on his chest and several large gashes on his worn face.

“We need him alive if we want anything useful from him.” Morison sighed, “don’t worry about making it pretty, just survivable.”

He was young, no older than Angela, and yet his face bore the scars of years of warfare. She placed him as a Mediterranean as she readied the medkit.

            It would be so easy to snip an artery, sever a spine, dislodge some vital organ, or better yet, target one the body’s many nerve clusters. _No_ Angela thought, _You’re better than this_. She set to work on him, removing the bandages to reveal surprisingly well-treated bullet holes. He barely winced as him reluctant caregiver poured alcohol into the wounds.

            “What is your name?” Angela figured maybe she could win some sympathy and make Morison’s job easier.

            “Burn in hell.”

            “Shut your damn mouth. You’re lucky we didn’t shoot your murdering ass back there!” Morison snapped at their prisoner.

            “You talk a big game American. But tell me,” he turned to face his captor, “are we _really_ different? We’re just opposite sides of a coin, soldiers following orders.” He finished with an unpleasant grin.

            “Doctor, why don’t you put our unruly friend here to sleep.” With that Angela gave the Talon soldier a not insignificant amount of sedative, not enough for a full knockout, but he’d be pretty out of it for a few hours.

 

* * *

 

            The prisoner and Efi (they had decided they could best help her if she was on base) were taken elsewhere on the Altar and Angela returned to the hut. Fareeha did not show, even at dinner no one seemed to know where she was. Worry began to take over Angela. Had something happened to her? Did she crash? Did she leave?

            Her mind toyed with possibility well past the meal when the pilot finally returned to their hut.

            “I heard you were worried about me doctor, I’m sorry. A bird flew into my tail rotor. Thankfully _my_ bird is fine.” She assured with a smile. 

           "How is our guest?" Angela wondered where they were keeping their prisoner.

           "She is great. Of all people, Trobjorn seems to get along well with her. They have been taking things apart together since she got here. She is an interesting one." Angela decided against clarifying that she meant the Talon soldier.

          After a couple of chess games and dinner, Fareeha and Angela were tucking in for the night.

          "Fareeha?"

          "Yes, doctor?" The pilot seemed to have found concern in Angela's voice

          "Where do you go in the morning?" It was about time she figured this out.

          "For a run doctor. You are welcome to join."

          "I'd like that." The banal answer disappointed Angela, she had hoped for some interesting daily adventure.

          "Fareeha?"

          "Yes, doctor?" The lieutenant was slightly puzzled in her tone

          "Can you teach me to shoot?"

          "Why would you want to learn such a thing?" Concern had returned to her voice.

          "We're in a war zone Fareeha, the other soldiers shouldn't have to worry about me." She had toyed with the thought since she arrived.

          "Very well doctor, we can begin tomorrow." 

          "Fareeha?"

          "Good night doctor." The pilot was quite tired, and now nearing annoyed, it had been a long day for her.\

          "Good night Fareeha." Despite her anticipation for tomorrow's lesson, Angela managed to fall to sleep.


	6. Day 29: Home on the Range

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Angela draws Fareeha closer, she only finds it harder to relate to the Egyptian. The Egyptian holds many tales, talents, and secrets. Perhaps there is more behind her eyes than the doctor had first anticipated.

Fareeha woke Angela up at 5:30am on the dot.

"The hell is it?" The doctor had forgotten last nights discussion.

"You wanted to join my run doctor. You best get changed before it gets too hot." The pilot was already wearing her workout attire; a sports bra, training shorts, and beat up sneakers. Angela took a moment to admire the soldier's physique. Her tendency to wear long clothes had concealed her well trained muscles. A pair of powerful legs, wonderfully toned abs, and an admirable set of biceps held the doctor's attention perhaps a bit too long. What was almost more intriguing were the dozens of white scars, criss-crossing her left side.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." Thankfully Angela had thought to bring clothes for exercise, though she had not yet used them for their intended purpose. A loose t-shirt and equally loose basketball shorts she had accidentally stolen from her roommate in medical school did not flatter her as well as Fareeha's did. Still, Angela had always been a desirable woman, with long legs and well-shaped hips, she'd had her fair share of suitors.

She quickly changed while Fareeha went outside. Emerging from the hut, she was surprised to find it was already 20 degrees out.  _Better than 35_ she thought.

"How far are we going Fareeha?"  _How long has it been?_ Angela had run a few kilometers when she was an undergrad student, but the mounting workload of graduated and medical work had killed that habit.

"I don't know exactly. Jesse told it's a mile, a kilometer and a half I think. Just to the depot and back."

 _1.609 kilometers_. Angela silently corrected. Why she remembered that she could not say. That was short enough either way, she had feared the soldier would demand five kilometers or more of her.

"Stretch first doctor. You should know these things." Fareeha mocked, noticing her partner's eagerness to get going. Angela also noticed that Winston had joined them. Evidently this is also where he went in the mornings.

"I'm an MD, not a physical therapist." She returned with a laugh. Angela always found the therapeutical sciences a bit too hokey for her taste. 

"Be warned doctor, I won't slow up for you." The Egyptian teased. With that she started their run, much faster than the doctor had expected.

 _Slow down!_ She tried to keep pace with the pilot, but at this speed, she'd hardly last half the distance. Winston rocked past her, rapidly closing on the pilot. _Oh come on!_

Only a few hundred meters in, she was panting and sweating far more than a woman her age should.  _Am I really_ that _out of shape?_  

Before she knew it, Fareeha was already on the return trip.

"This is a run, not a stroll." She said playfully as she passed.

Angela could only give a groan.

At last, she reached the half way mark.  _Bullshit this is a kilometer and a half._ Surely the Egyptian had duped her into a longer run. The return was far more grueling than the trip to the depot. The hut seemed to inch towards her, far slower than she believed she was moving.

Panting, and drenched in sweat, she finally staggered through the door. Fareeha had already showered and changed, drying Winston off, she was looking rather smug.

"Glad you made it doctor."

"I...that is way...more than a mile!" Angela got out between ragged breaths.

"Ha! We will have to train you doctor. Now clean up, we have breakfast, and then the range." Reminding her of the other part of what Angela had requested last night.  _Shooting can't be that hard. At least not as bad as this_. Angela thought as she gathered her things for the shower.

 

It was still long before breakfast when the doctor finished cleaning up. Her huttmate had set up their chessboard in anticipation.

"I know how you play." She declared taking her usual seat. If she could just ignore the small talk, or better yet, employ it herself, surely she could start beating the Egyptian. Fareeha only chuckled at the assertion.

"How did you get those scars?" Angela combined her gambits.

"It is a bit of a long story."

"We have time before breakfast." She pressed.

"Ok. I wish I could tell you a story about a battle where I bravely fought off hoards of attackers, but it is not so. When I joined the Air Force, we had to undergo basic infantry training. Not everyone in the Air Force is a pilot. A few weeks in, we were learning how to use hand grenades." Angela's stomach dropped. She knew where this was going. "I was in pen 7 with my instructor, and in pen 11 was Farid and his instructor. He pulled the pin, and the grenade just exploded as soon as he let the lever go. Must have been defective, but it killed him and his instructor then and there. My instructor took most of the shrapnel, he died a few days after. I just got left with the scars after a week in the hospital." Fareeha returned her attention to their game, moving a bishop into position.

 _Does this woman have any stories that don't end in death?_ Angela thought coldly as she eliminated her opponent's queen.

"You talk about your mother a lot, what was your father like?" The doctor changed tactics.

"He was not around. I don't know anything about him, and he was something of a taboo subject with my mother. Rumors were always abound about who he was. I learned to ignore them when I was young. Still, I often wonder about him."

 _Strike two._ Angela desperately searched for a less depressing subject matter.

"How did you learn english so well?" It was worth a shot.

"Like most things, I learned it from my mother. Her's was better than mine, but she was not the best teacher." Fareeha laughed, taking one of Angela's pawns. "For the life of me I could not pronounce 'symphony' or 'spagetti'. They are not exactly the most common words, but my mother was a perfectionist." Angela noted that the Egyptian's prononciation was now near perfect. 

"Why did she teach you? Check." Angela had played well thus far, but Fareeha still had fight left in her.

"She said it was likely I would meet foreigners someday. English was the most sensible choice. Americans speak it, many Europeans speak it, even many Asians speak English. I already knew the regional languages, Arabic, Farsi, and I can get by in Pashto." Evidently the pilot was smarter than she let on. Angela could manage the Romantic languages, plus English, and to get there had been a challenge. Despite her bright mind, language had always eluded Angela, requiring far more effort than other subjects.

"Very impressive. And that's checkmate Fareeha."

 

* * *

 

Following a few more games, most of which Angela had won, and breakfast, Angela had met Fareeha on The Altar's range. It was more of a lanes shooting at a fenced off piece of desert, but it served its purpose. To her surprise, Jesse had joined them.

"I came t' watch the show." He remarked sarcastically. "You should try this." Offering Angela his revolver.

"Jesse we don't want to break the doctor's wrists."

"The recoil ain't not  _that_ bad."

"It  _is_ that bad. Now doctor, I am confident in your skills, but I'd still like not to be shot. So we have some basics to cover." Jesse reclined into the bench behind the line.

"This is an M4 Carbine." Fareeha produced a rifle from behind her, propping it up on a table. "Basic terminology; trigger, charging handle, front sight, rear sight, barrel, muzzle, magazine, magazine release, and stock." She pointed to each component as she went through the list. Angela had excellent memory, so the lesson did not require repeating.

"There are four rules doctor. Follow them, and the only thing hurt will be the target. One; don't point your weapon at anything you don't want to put a hole in. Two, finger off the trigger until we are ready to shoot. Three, even if the weapon is clearly not loaded, treat it as it is loaded. Last, always know what is down range." The pilot did her best not to sound patronizing. The last time she had heard these words, her mother was teaching to fire a rifle.

She beckoned Angela up and placed the rifle in her hands. It was far lighter than she had expected, maybe three kilograms. The doctor pointed it down the range, emanating the poses she'd seen in war movies.

"Not quite Angie!" Jesse called out.

"She's got the right idea." Fareeha chuckled. She demonstrated how to aim, making a ring and "w" with her hands and aligning them, then proper trigger pull and folow through. Fareeha seemed more confident in Angela than Angela was. 

The doctor was handed a magazine, slapped it into the rifle and took aim. She eased the trigger back, it seemed to take forever to reach the final position.

A sharp crack caused Angela to jolt. It wasn't the dull bang she had expected, but a harsher sound. An unfamiliar smell hung in the air, it must be the gunpowder she assumed. 

"Close." Evidently she had entirely missed the target, even at 25 meters. "Try again, you still have 29 shots."

BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. 

"The sights must be messed up." Angela proposed.

"Let me see." She handed Fareeha the rifle, who rapidly discharged six rounds, all landing well with in the center ring.

"You cheated." The doctor teased.

"Well I suppose being the daughter of a sniper is something of an advantage." Fareeha laughed. "Let me help with your stance." Her strong hands gripping her thighs to realign them took Angela off guard. She smirked as Fareeha pressed her body against her's, bringing her into the right pose. Once again there was comfort in the Egyptian's arms.

"Try that."

BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, hit? Hit!

"I hit it! I hit it, look look look!" Angela squealed. It was not often something so simple posed her such a challenge.

"Yes, you have scored two points doctor." Fareeha cited.

"Still counts." The doctor countered.

A couple hours, and a significant amount of ammunition later, Angela was consistently hitting the black on a 50 meter target. Not bad for the first time Jesse had praised. Fareeha was outwardly mocking of the amateur, be she was quite impressed with Angela's persistence. The trio broke for lunch, everyone's least favorite, "what the fuck is this" stew. Rumor was they just threw whatever they had into a pot and ran with it. 

Halfway through the meal, the loudspeaker interrupted a heated debate between Jesse and Fareeha about rifle calibers. 

_"Lieutenant Fareeha Amari to Command 3, L-T Fareeha Amari ro Command 3."_

"Earlier than I expected." Fareeha remarked. "I'm going to be gone for a couple days, Jesse can keep teaching you."

"Where are you going?" Angela was puzzled by the turn of events.

"I'll tell you when I get back doctor." She said, patting her hutmate on the head as she left. Angela turned to Jesse who only offered a shrug.

* * *

Jesse and Angela had returned to the ranger after the meal. He was a good enough teacher, but he could easily see the Swiss missed Fareeha. He did however, take the opportunity to show off a bit, demonstrating his remarkable skill with the revolver, beating Angela's accuracy with ease, even when firing on the draw.

"I used t' do trick shooting in high school." He reminisced. "I was damned good at it too, room back home is full of trophies an' shit. Probably could have gone pro, but that guy at the army booth knew how to work an audience." He chuckled.

"Now you're just bragging." The doctor liked Jesse's company. He was certainly a unique character.

* * *

After dinner and the fall of night, Angela retuned to the hut. It felt disproportionally empty for being down only one occupant. Winston whined at her, he had taken a rather strong attachment to Fareeha, and he'd always been cool towards Angela.

"She's gonna be gone for a couple days, you'll have to put up with me." She told the dog, doubting he'd quit his pouting.

The fact that Fareeha hadn't told her where she was going troubled her. Was this some secret mission? Surely not. Maybe she was in trouble? But for what? She'd done nothing wrong. Did she have a secret lover?  _Wait, why do I care_? The thought echoed in her head, its significance alien to Angela. 

She set her mind to something more present, a nearly overdue report to her supervising officer in Switzerland. It was a grueling process of recounting ever detail of the past week. The doctor wished for Fareeha's comforting voice as she reported the more unpleasant events. Winston ended up providing enough comfort, though he lacked an Egyptian accent. At last the report was done, and it was close to midnight.  _Go to bed Angela_.

Still the implications of Fareeha's departure plagued her mind as she laid her head to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter of not a whole lot. The next "month" of the story's chronology is going to have a lot of shit go down, so there's some set up I need to take care of. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.


	7. Days 30: For the Want of a Fareeha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no companionship, Angela struggles to be productive. To her surprise, Fareeha has become more important to the doctor than she would care to admit. As usual for the Swiss, she find solace in her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just padding out the length. And providing a lull until the next big event.

Angela was intensely bored. Fareeha was who knows where, Winston had been taken by Lt. Fawkes for training, and as she had learned from Morison at breakfast, Jesse had been bitten by a snake. 

"Can't wait to hear how he fought a 70-foot viper with nothing but his hands." The Captain had joked.

She searched for _something_ to do. Angela didn't trust herself alone at the range, she'd already read her books twice, and "Comprehensive adult human circulatory system, Edition 6" was not exactly leisure reading. She laid in her bunk for hours, racking her brain for a source of entertainment. Most of The Altar was either off limits to Angela or simply not interesting; so a tour seemed pointless. She'd already surveyed Fareeha's bunk and dresser a few times that day, it was of course always the same, and opening it went beyond even Angela's limits.

  _Angela you're a doctor for god's sake, be a fucking doctor!_ Ashamed at how long the thought had taken to form, Angela finally made her way to the medical facility on base. She'd begun to tolerate the dry Egyptian heat, though she could not control her body's urge to sweat. 

It was a reasonably large structure, able to accommodate about 100 patients, it even had its own ambulance, an HMMWV emblazoned with several red crosses. Most of the time, the hospital was near empty, treating only a few seriously wounded soldiers, but mostly dealing with sickness and minor injury. Cairo was far safer than most of Egypt. A young Egyptian man sat at the desk, absentmindedly typing something. 

"Hi, I'm Dr. Angela Ziegler, do you need an extra hand here?" It was worth a shot. To her surprise, the young man's eyes light up.

"You have no idea." He said with joy. "Let me get the supervisor." The clerk ran off. A few moments later he was back with an Egyptian doctor in tow. 

"If you're interested in helping, we could use you in the urgent care unit. We're a bit understaffed and someone with your talents would be an excellent addition here." The doctor said kindly. Angela had never worked an urgent care before, but medicine was medicine. "We know you go on the mercy missions, and we'd be able to make a viable schedule with that, four days a week." Wasn't a bad deal.

"Just show me where to go." The Egyptian smiled, escorting her to a small office. He briefly went over documentation and other such procedures, it was all very similar to Angela's residency. The office was a small standard room, desk with a computer, book shelf which was currently empty, an elevated bed for a patient to be examined, refrigerator to house medicine, a drawer system full of supplies, and a disposal box.

 

It was several hours before her first patient, Captain Morison of all people. He now wore a large reddened welt on his head.

"Afternoon doctor." He said, taking a seat on the examination table.

"What did you go to yourself?" The welt was clearly the result of an impact.

"I hit a golf ball, damn thing bounced back into my head. Just want to make sure my skull isn't caved in." He winced slightly as Angela prodded at the sore, the bone around it felt solid enough, and a ricochet wouldn't do that much damage.

"Why were you hitting golf balls?" This reeked of cover story.

"Working on my handicap. I know, I know I'm acting like an old man." She still had her doubts but decided against questioning the officer. Surveying the wound again, it seemed rather minor. 

She pulled up his records regardless, best to check for anything that could be a problem. He had several records on file, ranging from the comprehensive to the brief. She selected the shortest record, it would have everything she needed for such a minor injury.

           _Name: Jack Morison                    Height: 73in (185cm)_

_Age: 53                                      Weight: 189 lbs (85.7kg)_

_Sex: Male                                   DoB: 5 May 1964_

_Notable conditions:_

  * _myopia_
  * _allergy to red dye #7_
  * _arthritis in right elbow_
  * _former smoker_



_Medications:  
_

  * _OtC painkiller for arthritis_
  * _EpiPen for allergy, never used_



__Notable Procedures:_ _

  * _appendix removed [29 September 1975]_
  * _minor knee surgery [4 August 1999]_



_Notes:_

_Morison has maintained a remarkable level of fitness for a man of his age, however, it is my opinion that he should step down from frontline combat role. The intensity of combat has only exacerbated his joint problems and the damage caused by his smoking is severely limiting his effectiveness. Despite my recommendations, Captain Morison has refused to resign his role. I have notified his superior officers of my concerns, but they too seem to pay me no mind. [Dr. Shadid, 21 May 2017]_

Angela weighed the report for a moment. She decided against confronting the Captain about what Shadid had said, it wasn't her place, not now. A new thought slipped into her mind, but she had to deal with her patient first.

"I don't think anything is going to be a problem Captain. Just put some ice on it and take these." She gave Morison a bottle of generic brand acetaminophen. "Take two and call me in the morning." She smiled.

"Thanks, doc, could ya' check on Jesse if you have a moment? I'd hate to loose the damn fool." The Captain laughed as he departed.

Now alone, Angela feverously entered Fareeha into the database, and, finding her most brief record opened it. She came up with a few contrived excuses if she got caught while she waited for the old computer to load the documents. She stared into the unanswering screen for a long moment. This was too far, even for her. Besides, what did she expect to find in the records? She closed the tab, contemplating for a moment.  _Why Angela? Why do you care?_ It was a question she didn't yet know the answer to.

After another twenty minutes of nothing, she made her way to Jesse's room. His left foot was covered in bandages and the table beside him featured several vials of pills.

"How are we doing Jesse?" She called him away from the TV.

"Well, I'll be. Good t' see ya' doc. Checkin' up on me?" He seemed legitimately surprised to see her.

"Captain's orders." She chuckled, "also I work here now. Things were getting boring without you and Fareeha."

"We do make life jus' a bit more exciting. You know where she's at?"

"No, she makes a habit of disappearing. How did you even get bit?"

"Umm, there was a snake in my boot." The American seemed a bit ashamed.

"You're shitting me."

"Hey now doc, that's not very professional. An' I swear that's how it happened." He laughed.

"Well listen to your doctor and you'll be fine, I'll check up on you later." 

"Thanks for the visit doc."

Back in her office, Angela saw a few more soldiers with mild wounds, nothing she couldn't easily handle, and no one she knew. Though it was dull work, it was better than doing nothing. 

* * *

 

Dinner was equally boring, she sat with Morison and the other American's gingerly engaging in small talk. They were nice enough, but too soldiery for her. 

Following the meal, Winston had returned to the hut, still a bit cool towards the doctor. 

"You used to like me. What changed?" The dog offered only low whines in reply.

"Whatever." She said as she headed to bed, not looking forward to another boring day.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter and late update. Chaotic week, but all the pieces are in place for the next big events.


	8. Day 32: Too close for comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Fareeha back and a myriad of new faces at the Altar, Angela has escaped her boredom. But perhaps her absence and the ensuing boredom was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hills and valleys folks. Another short chapter, but there will be more excitement coming soon.

Angela was glad to see Jesse had recovered enough to make it to breakfast. Personally, she believed he was exaggerating his condition to prolong his stay in the cushy hospital bed, but that aside, she was still happy to have his company. Just as Morison had predicted, the snake was fast approaching mythical proportions.

"The damned thing was at least a yard an' a half. I swear, fangs were a good four inches. Miracle I ain't dead, guess I'm jus' that tough." He boasted

"Oh I'm sure." Angela replied sarcastically into her coffee.

"Hey, you try gettin' bit by one of 'em. Shit ain't peaches and daisies!" 

"You should be more careful then, getting bit twice would be embarrassing."

"Yer damn right I'm careful. I shake these boots the hell out evr'y day now. Shoot them damn slithers on sight." The American assured.

Angela could only chuckle at his theatrics. 

 

Back in her hut after the meal, Angela was making final preparations, they had a mercy mission today. As she finished strapping on the kevlar vest, her door opened.

"Fareeha! You're back!" She wrapped her arms around the Egyptian, who was looking sharp in her full dress uniform. Her hair now sported two short braids on either side, secured by large golden beads. "Did you make all this fuss about a damn haircut?!" Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"No, and that's Captain Amari to you!" She answered exaggerating her tone. It took a moment for the penny to drop on Angela.

"Ooooohhhhh. You got promoted?" She finally realized.

"Yes doctor, the same rank as my mother." The now captain laughed.

"Congratulations captain." She said with another hug. "Why didn't you tell me though?"

"Well these things are never certain. And besides, I like teasing you. Now you need to let me go, I have a helicopter to fly."

* * *

Their destination for the day was incredibly close, only half an hour's drive. Talon had been shelling the previously untouched town for several days before word reached the Altar. A few airstrikes seemed to alleviate the threat. Jesse was still sitting this one out, earning a good deal of mocking from his comrades. Still, without him, translation wouldn't be as smooth. 

To Angela's surprise, she had few patients. It seemed the people had been incredibly lucky.

"One of the few ways we are blessed in war." Zenyatta commented.

"I'll take a small blessing any day." she responded, checking a young boy's bloodshot eyes. "Why did you come here? You seem like you hate war, so why put yourself in it?"

"My reasons are many fold, and not all are selfless. I was once training to be a monk in my home, but I was not the best student. I questioned everything, teachings, methods, our lifestyle, where we were to live. I never felt at peace with that life, so I respectfully left. I went to China, studied to become a doctor, however it was far more expensive than my family could afford. I had trouble finding work, work that paid enough I should say. My family convinced me that Europe would have better opportunities. It did for a time, but I still could not find peace in my work. I was told by a friend that I could work for the military, he had done it and claimed he loved the work. As it turned out, the would also ease my debts. I do love working with the people here, in many ways they remind me of home." He smiled. "So I suppose in short I am in war because other people within it need me, for the erasure of my debts, and partially as my penance for leaving my family behind."

"How long were you at the monastery? You seem like you picked up a lot of what they said." 

"Only a couple years. I tried to force myself to be satisfied, but that only made things worse. I guess you are right, they did have an effect on me. I still get letters from them from time to time, I hope to return one day and thank them. Regardless of my leaving, they made me who I am now."

Before Angela could respond, she was thrown to the ground by the force of a nearby explosion.

The deafening crescendo of rifle fire, the overlapping orders barked, and the roar of tanks filled the air. The horrible crack of incoming fire and sharp bangs of explosions forced Angela into the ground even further.

"CONTACT, CONTACT NORTH!"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT TANK?!"

"GET THAT MG GOING, FUCKIN HELL!"

"2-2, THIS IS 2-5, WE ARE TAKING HOSTILE FIRE, REPEAT HOSTILE FIRE, NEED SUPPORT NOW!"

"ERHALTEN SIE ZUM ABDECKEN!"

"WHERE THE FUCKING HELL IS PHARAH?!"

"RPG!"

_No no no no no no no no no no. Not today not today _not today _not today _not today.____

The familiar sound of Fareeha's helicopter raced overhead, towards the enemy. Against all that kept her hiding in the dirt, Angela lifted her head to the window. In the distance she could see the forms of the enemy, soon enveloped in plumes of dust and smoke as the gunship strafed their position.

"NO!" she shouted as a rocket moved to intercept the helicopter. With a hard bank, and cascade of flares, she barely was able to fool the incoming warhead. Second rocket took aim, this time unguided. It screamed past Fareeha's tail, missing by millimeters as it's pilot executed an elaborate roll. 

Bringing the aircraft back around, Pharah unleashed another volley of rocket and cannon fire, blasting her enemies into pieces of flesh.

Under the protection of more flares, she retreated to above the town, ammunition depleted. 

An eternity of silence hung in the air. Dust, the spent powder, the unmistakeable scent of blood conquered Angela's senses.

"Status?" Morison at last broke.

"I think we're all alive here, Palmer took shrapnel to the leg, doesn't look too bad." A soldier answered

"Well I'll be damned, Pharah, do you have anything on thermal, over?"

"Negative, nothing coming our way at least, a handful of hostiles retreating, I have 2 Hellfires, and about 3% cannon left, over" She answered.

"Understood, hold off. We may need those munitions later, over. Doctor Ziegler! Everything ok in there?" Morison asked.

She surveyed the tent. No one seemed injured, the tent itself was ruined, several large holes and scorch marks had intruded on the roof.

"W-we're ok in here." She said weakly.

"Alright, stay sharp everyone, we still have work to do." 

The remaining hours were a tense peace. No one dared take their eyes from the area where Talon had attacked from. Time crept by as each passing minute seemed to bring a second wave closer. At last, they had finished, Angela's hand shaking in anticipation of the unknown. 

* * *

 

As Angela dropped the vest and helmet back in her hut, she became aware of her still fast beating heart. 

 _It's fine. Everyone is ok_. She told herself. What was holding her in such as state. Granted it had been the first combat since Lena, but this felt...different.

Before she could further pursue what was tormenting her mind, Fareeha entered.

"Are you alright doctor..ohhfff." She was ment with a powerful hug.

"You almost died Fareeha." Angela got out.

"Almost Angela, almost. You need to trust me." She returned with a smile.

"You aren't scared? Don't you take this seriously?!" An undercurrent of anger entered her voice.

"Angela, everytime I fly into battle, I'm afriad I'll never come back; but if I let that fear rule, then I'd just hide in my room for the rest of my life. Don't worry about me Angela, it's me who has to watch your back." The captain said as she returned the embrace.

"Just please be careful Fareeha."

"I am doctor. Before I go to debreif, I was wondering if you'd like...you know, to have coffee someday, if you want. If you don't that's fine too. But just if you want to have coffe, I'd like to have coffee."

"They have coffe on the base." Angela replied without thinking.

"Oh. Yeah. You're right." The pilot said a bit disheartened.

"But, I'm sure there's better coffee in the city. I'd love to get something with actual taste to it." _Nice save Ange_  

"Oh! Yes, great, good. Umm like tommorrow before dinner? If that works for you. I'm totally flexiable, always available."

"Sounds great Fareeha. I guess I have to let you get to your debriefing." She said, releasing her hug.

"Uh, yes, see you then doc-ow!" Fareeha had walked into the closed backdoor of the hut.

"Jeez Fareeha are you ok?" Angela asked, distressed.

"Fine, fine. Umm, see you later Angela. Bye" She finished as she akwardly exited the hut. 

Alone again, Angela realized she was working at the clinic tomorrow. _Fuck!_   _I'll have to change that._ She growled in frustration aloud. What was Fareeha so nervous about anyways? It's just going into town for coffee. Ciaro was incredibly safe and she knew it well. Is there something up? The doctor discarded the thoughts, _I'm overthinking this as usual, she's just like that I guess_. 


End file.
